The Art of Protection
by Hyperminimalism
Summary: Being a high-profile executive is not an easy job, but when there is an attempt on the life of the director of the WRO, his team of bodyguards find that their job isn't any easier.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

Nervous fingers drummed incessantly against the small table next to the couch. Everyone in the room took notice to this, but they focused their attention on the television as the anchorwoman began to speak.

_"Tonight on the 6 o'clock news we are following breaking news from a report earlier this morning. Authorities have confirmed that there has been an assassination attempt on the life of the director, Reeve Tuesti, of the WRO." _ Wince. _"Company officials have notified our reporters that the attempt was unsuccessful; however, no one was available for further comment. It happened this morning just before sunset as the director was getting into his car to attend a meeting. At this point, we do not have much more information as the authorities are not releasing any new details. The director's whereabouts are not known as of yet and will probably remain so for security purposes. We'll be following the story as more details come in. Again, it has been confirmed that the attack was unsuccessful. There is—"_

_Click._

The television screen went dark and the remote control landed on the far end of the couch. One man walked around the small coffee table towards the window and carefully pulled back the blinds to peer outside; another had to duck as he came in through the doorway bearing news.

"What's going on?" Reeve asked, sitting upright now. He'd been waiting, racked with nerves, for quite some time to hear more word on the situation.

"The cops just arrested a couple guys who were loitering outside the building under the suspicion that they're somehow associated with the attempt. We're not sure if there are anymore hanging around, but they've got this place thoroughly covered." Ryu was his name, and one of the director's most trusted bodyguards. Protection hadn't always been a thought that ran through Reeve's mind; whenever he needed to go somewhere or do something, he was either by himself or with his colleagues, but this time it was a necessity. He had no other choice.

"We've got a plan to get you out of here, but it's not completely fool-proof and it was the best we could come up with considering the circumstances. Downstairs there are two decoy cars waiting in the garage; one of them will carry myself and Ran, the other, Jo and Wrek. You'll be in the third car with Vincent."

A pair of worried eyes darted to the figure that stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall in a surprisingly calm manner.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Junon for now," Vincent replied, pushing himself upright, "At least until we can determine when it will be safe for you to return to the city."

The taller man's watch chirped as if on cue.

"It's time," said Ryu. Reeve stood from the couch without protest. They escorted him down the corridor to the elevators with Vincent tagging behind. The few tentative minutes that passed on their way to the basement quickly ended and a new set was to begin. They would have to wait again in the dark and dreary underground parking structure.

As anticipated, parked and running idly in the two spaces to their left, Ryu and Ran sat in one car while Jo and Wrek sat in the other. In the third car, Vincent and Reeve waited for the signal.

It was unnervingly quiet; their primary means of contact with each other fit snuggly in the gunner's ear, a hands-free headset wired straight to his PHS. The only audible sound was the hum of the engine. Now, normally Reeve was a rather calm and collected man, but the entire situation had managed to rattle him to the bone. He couldn't keep silent about it any longer.

"…How do you presume this plan will work?" the director asked as he gnawed on his thumbnail.

Bright red eyes glanced into the rear view mirror. Vincent could tell just by the sound of his voice that Reeve had his doubts. Then again, he couldn't exactly blame the man. After having been what he'd just been through, anyone in his position would question their chance for survival.

"Faith, I suppose."

"You suppose?" Reeve echoed, snickering dryly at the response. "We've got a one in three chance of them picking the right car, and all you can tell me is to have faith."

His voice had been lacking any sincerity. "I was merely answering the question." Not with any real direction, that is. Of course, what could Vincent say that would calm his nerves? Nothing. And he knew that.

"Well"—the first car pulled out—"I trust you, Vincent;" the second. "I trust you," he repeated, almost as if to reassure himself of his belief in the statement. As soon as the car that Jo and Wrek occupied was gone from their sight, Vincent shifted gears and headed for the exit. They whirled up the steep inclined ramp, slowly inching out the garage door. A siren buzzed loudly to warn incoming pedestrians, though in the pouring rain and at that hour, hardly anyone roamed the sidewalks.

Immediately, as the car pulled out onto the street, Vincent spotted the first decoy being escorted by a police cruiser headed north. Jo and Wrek in the second unmarked sedan traveled the opposite way—south—following their escort, and there at the light waited the third to which Vincent got behind.

With the darkened windows and Reeve slouching in his seat, even through the heavy rain that showered the car, it would be difficult for anyone to see inside. They made it five blocks, six blocks, seven blocks without any signs of a hitch, though the atmosphere was still tense. Eight, nine, ten…still nothing.

Over the earpieces, after a few tentative moments had passed, they spoke to each other.

"_No sign of a tail_," Ryu informed.

Jo chimed in to report their situation next. "_Roger. We're clear on this end._"

Just briefly, Vincent glanced in his rear view mirror, not at the director, who remained slouched in his seat, but at the few sets of headlights that followed in the darkness behind them. By then, their escort had already backed off, as it had all been a part of the plan. They'd made it to the 4-lane highway without any problems and set on course for the airstrip.

"_No tail,_" Vincent replied, keeping a firm grasp on the steering wheel.

He could feel the car hydroplane over the large puddles of water that formed on the roadway as the rain continued to fall. The windshield wipers flew back and forth on their highest speed, whishing away the droplets as new ones formed. Behind them, one of the cars in the handful that followed made a right hand turn. _Not that one…_

Again, Vincent's eyes darted to the mirror, more so than they had before and this time Reeve caught the look. He watched out of his peripherals as the gunner frequently, almost nervously, checked every few seconds.

"Is something wrong?" Reeve dared to ask.

Vincent did not reply right away. Instead, he pulled the earpiece out and shut down the signal that connected them to the others.

"We're being followed," he replied, sure of it now.

"...By the police, I hope?"

"There's a dark colored sedan about three cars behind us. I noticed it in the city as well; the license plate is a match. We're too far out now for to be a coincidence."

As traffic continued to thin, Vincent's observation became frighteningly true. There were only two cars left now, and even as Reeve braved taking a glance out of the back windshield, he could see the vehicle inching closer.

In the front seat, a PHS chimed to life.

"_What's going on? Why did you disconnect?_" Ryu asked.

"I'm heading back into the city," Vincent explained, glancing to his left. The only thing that blocked them was the large cement barrier and incoming cars. It would have to be a quick and precise maneuver, and that was not even taking into account the horrid weather conditions.

"_What?! Why?_"

"There's a car following us. I've got to lose it."

"_Shit, Vincen—_"

He flipped the phone closed and stashed it under one of his thighs. For this, Vincent would need all of his concentration. There were only two possible outcomes, and one of them was absolutely unacceptable.

"Hold onto something," he said, easing off the gas a bit to allow the tail to come closer. Although it wasn't all that necessary, the sedan picked up some speed when the car in front of it turned off the roadway. They were hood to trunk at one point, in quite the vulnerable position, too, but Vincent had no other choice.

The director squeezed his eyes shut, brows furrowed as if to prepare for what was to come. He knew it would be dangerous, he knew it would be suicide, but despite knowing what to expect, his stomach dropped as the car suddenly swerved through a small break in the median, head on at oncoming traffic. The back of the car fishtailed for a second, miraculously finding traction and the tires squealed loudly as they sprayed water in their wake. Vincent maneuvered the car through a back alley, quickly finding them at a dead end; the only way to go would be parallel to the highway they just came from.

Under his leg, he felt the PHS vibrate knowing undoubtedly that it was Ryu trying to get a hold of him. He couldn't focus on that right now, and instead, searched desperately for a way that wouldn't throw them too far off track.

Another glance in the mirror alleviated his concern. For the most part, Reeve was still alive, extremely shaken up, but alive, nonetheless. One hand still clung tightly to the handle on the ceiling while the other gripped the leather seat.

They came to an intersection, stopping at the red light. There were no others cars; the neighborhood was completely deserted. It gave both men a bit of time to catch their breath, but not for long. As fast as the car had come to a stop, it was moving again slowly through the intersection, when from out of nowhere a familiar set of headlights came barreling towards them.

He could've sworn he heard Reeve call out his name, but Vincent was so caught up in the anticipation that they would hit that he hardly realized they'd somehow made it unscathed, again, and were still driving down the road in one piece.

"_Holyshit_," Reeve huffed as he settled in his seat. At this rate, if they couldn't shoot him to death, they'd give him a heart attack instead.

In the rear view mirror, the headlights appeared from around the corner.

These guys are ruthless, Vincent thought. Luckily, there were no cars up ahead that he could spot through the torrent of rain, and for a long ways down the road they would hit nothing but green lights if he timed it right. He sped up a bit, as safely as he could without putting them in anymore danger, but the pursuing car would simply not let them out of sight. That's when it happened…

The first gunshot startled Vincent, and he flinched, ducking instinctively as he kept his eyes on the road. It didn't seem to have pierced the car, though the thought was short-lived when another bullet came whirling at them, striking the trunk this time.

Vincent spat to himself, "Fuck!"

There was another shot, this time shattering the back windshield.

He didn't need to tell Reeve to get down as the director had already instinctively ducked and thrown his hands over his head while shards of glass littered the interior. Unfortunately, that had to be the least of his worries. In front of them was a building and it was coming in fast.

They weren't traveling at a very high speed, but even as Vincent slammed on the brakes, they pumped and skipped over the water. It seemed as though luck was in their favor and against them at the same time. Somehow, he'd managed to steer the car, although recklessly and just barely missing broad siding a pole, into the correct lane with the pursuers hot on their tail.

Vincent peeked over his shoulder out of the window, and as rain droplets poured in through the missing windshield, he caught a brief glance at the silhouetted figure that hung daringly out of the car. It couldn't have been a worse time for Reeve to move far up enough that he could catch the next stray bullet, so Vincent instinctively reached back with his right arm to push the director down. The sound of gunfire rang in his ears and soon he felt a white-hot fire graze his bicep. He snatched his arm back to grab hold of the wheel, but the blinding pain that shot throughout his upper body prevented him from keeping hold. Instead, the gunner cradled his arm in his lap, knowing full well in his mind that he'd been hit and that if he didn't do something now, it would certainly be the end for the both of them.

Earlier that morning when he'd gotten the call there was little time to do anything other than to rush to the scene. In that frenzy, he'd forgotten to grab Cerberus and was forced to settled with what Ryu could provide him; a semiautomatic pistol that would do the job. Either way, he would have to use his injured arm. It was most sensible to control the more dangerous weapon of the two—the car—with his uninjured arm.

The bullet had ricocheted off his bicep, tearing through his sleeve and took off a tad bit of the skin, deep down so that it tore the muscle. It was painful enough, and he was losing a significant amount of blood, but even as the burning ache pulsed throughout his body, Vincent aimed the gun out of the open window. Before taking the shot, he made sure they were in no danger of crashing; finding the right angle would take all of his focus. He steadied the wheel with his left hand, trying to refrain from squeezing off a round as his arm trembled in pain. He broke into a sweat, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood and then pulled the trigger.

In the back of his mind, he knew he'd let it off too soon, but the horrid ache was just too much to bear. Vincent dropped the gun on the floor in the back seat and cried out loudly as he pulled his arm to cradle in his lap again. He hissed through his teeth, jaw clenched, wanting to shout at the top of his lungs.

When Vincent managed to control himself, he noticed, in the rear view mirror, that the car was no longer following them, and instead, sat in the middle of the road at an angle facing the buildings; its headlights glowing brightly in the pouring rain. He'd done it. They were home free.

Even if only for a moment, he could finally sit back in his seat and let out the sigh he'd been so desperately trying to hold in. They still had a few miles to go before they would arrive at the airship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Just the sight of the car was enough to send everyone into a fit. Ryu dashed towards the last vehicle, followed by the other two men Jo and Wrek hot on his trail. When they rolled to an abrupt stop, Reeve helped himself out by kicking the back door open and rushed to Vincent's aide, extending a hand which the gunman took as he was hoisted out of his seat.

"What happened?!" asked Ryu. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, the tall man stared in amazement at the missing back windshield. Numerous bullet holes had sprayed the trunk of the car. There was blood on the front seat and glass in the back. He was much too shocked by how much of a mess the car had become to notice what happened to its passengers.

Even as the other men attempted to guide Vincent to the ship, he would refuse and shrug away from their helping hands. He could do it himself, he thought, still clutching onto the director's arm.

As the rain continued to shower them, Reeve spat away the water that streamed down his face and shouted an order over his shoulder to Ryu. "Get on the ship!" They would have to leave the car behind, battered and broken on the tarmac for the authorities to deal with. In front of them waited the Shera; the propeller blades whirled in preparation for take off, slicing through the downpour. From out of the haze, a dim light could be seen as it glowed from the cargo bay entrance. A handful of crewman scurried about, one lingered on the ramp to help board their tardy passengers; however, none of them had been informed of any injury.

"What's with him?" the crewman asked, having to shout over the noise from the ship.

"He needs medical treatment!" Reeve shouted back. The only thing Vincent could do was wait, huddled over attempting to shield his face from the heavy droplets that stung his skin all while keeping a tight grip around the still bleeding wound. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the freezing cold. The way his body shivered violently wasn't helping much to alleviate the pain, either.

Turning to the entry door, the crewman threw a couple of signals in the air with his fingers at a fellow colleague and stepped aside to let them in. Their main concern now was getting all passengers aboard, shutting, and securely locking the cargo bay door for take off.

The ship did have a makeshift area for emergencies, but it was certainly not equipped to thoroughly treat a trauma such as the one that Vincent sustained. To make matters worse, everyone piled into the room together in a mass of confusion, desperately searching for answers. They spoke at once, shouting over each other only adding to the already chaotic atmosphere.

Suddenly, under their feet, the ship lurched and vibrated as it climbed into the sky. They leveled out a few moments later, which allowed the trained crewman to finally do his job without being thrown about the room; though it was hard enough trying to concentrate on not doing any more damage with all the noise.

Once the ship was in the air at the right altitude and on its course, from around the corner another body appeared, popping his head in through the doorway to see what all the commotion was about.

"What's goin' on back here?" Cid asked. He could hardly see through the bodies that crowded the room, and had not been informed of his passenger's conditions as he'd been to busy getting the ship off the ground. The disorder was quickly put to an end when the frustrated crewman could no longer keep quiet.

At the top of his lungs, he barked, "This room is _too crowded! _Anyone who does_ not_ need to be here must leave _immediately!"_

They could tell by the tone of his voice that he was not kidding, so Ryu, Ran, Jo and Wrek squeezed out of the doorway passed the captain. Once the crowd had fled, Cid could finally step inside. What he saw upon entering was something he was not expecting.

"_Vincent_?!"

Reeve slumped heavily on the seat against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. To field that question, he would need to gather his muddled thoughts before even attempting an explanation. "They were shooting at us. Vincent knew we were being followed so he tried to lose them, but they managed to keep up. I'm not exactly sure how it happened. One of the bullets hit him…"

Vincent hissed softly when the medic touched a sensitive spot. He clenched his jaw as if it would help with the pain and went silent again.

"Jesus…" The word spewed quietly from Cid's mouth. He stood staring at the blood that stained the gunman's shirt and hands; Reeve's as well.

"Almost done…" He would have to brave another few seconds as he felt the pressure of the gauze being wrapped carefully around his bicep. "There."

Vincent snatched his arm away, gingerly rubbing the wound. He didn't say anything, just sat there on the bench trying not to make eye contact with the pilot until the medic broke the silence.

"We'll have to change that gauze again soon if the bleeding doesn't stop. I'll arrange for some proper treatment when we arrive in Junon, so try not to move your arm too much."

The remaining occupants of the room waited mutely as the medic left them, shutting the door in his wake.

Reeve stood from his seat to inspect the gunman. "Are you you're going to be all right?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," Vincent reassured him and stood as well, though—with fresh wounds—not as ambiguous of the pain as he would have liked. Vincent paused when it flared again, taking a moment to recover from the influx.

Immediately, Reeve spun on his heels to face Cid when he could no longer take seeing the gunman in such a state. To make matters worse, it was all on his account. "He should be resting. Do you have any empty rooms?"

"Sure," Cid nodded and headed for the hall. He stepped aside to let them out first and led the way to a small, unoccupied room. "There're some blankets in the closet and an extra pillow just in case," the pilot said as he opened the door to illustrate.

Reeve turned to Vincent, still obviously concerned about whether the gunman would be okay for the night. He felt terribly, to say the least, and wondered if he should even leave the man in his condition. "Will you be fine in here?"

"Yes," Vincent said. As much as he appreciated the director's concern, he wasn't the only one who had been through something traumatic.

Despite the concern that Reeve felt in the pit of his stomach, he knew he was being a tad bit excessive in expressing it. Vincent was an extremely capable man and had been through much worse. Perhaps it was the fact that he had himself such an exciting day or that he was lacking sleep; the reason seemed insignificant at that point. As long as they were safe now…

"Okay," Reeve sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. "Good," he nodded. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me." He would take his leave and attempt to get some rest as well, but he wasn't sure if he could truly get much sleep.

Cid followed the director in the hall, taking notice of just how distraught the man was.

"Let's get you set up, too," Cid suggested and led the way to an empty room down the hall.

-

To his surprise, Reeve managed to finally fall asleep a little more than two hours later. He couldn't recall what time it was when he actually passed out, but the fact that no one had awakened him during the night was somewhat of a relief. After washing his face and straightening out the clothes he had fallen asleep in, Reeve left his room to look for Vincent.

The first place he checked was the room that the gunman had been set up in, but no one was in there. In fact, it almost looked like it hadn't even been used. He decided he would check the bridge knowing he would most likely find Cid there. The pilot spotted Reeve as he climbed the stairs to join him and smiled.

"Mornin', sunshine. Sleep well?"

"Well enough," Reeve replied. When he did not find the gunman, Reeve felt his stomach drop. "When do we plan on arriving in Junon?"

"Well, we left our pit stop location about an hour ago, so 'bout another 40 minutes."

"I see…" Reeve was unable to suppress the urge to ask if Cid knew where Vincent might be and couldn't care less if he came off as a little overbearing in his concern. He wanted to see the gunman for himself and would search the ship high and low until he found him.

"Do you know where Vincent is?"

"Oh, yeah," Cid answered as he placed a cigarette in between his lips. "Last time I saw him he was getting his bandages change. That was about ten minutes ago, so I'm not sure if he's still there. If you hurry, you might catch him."

That made sense. With a nod, the director excused himself. He kept a fast pace down the corridors, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone on the way, but – much to his dismay – was stopped by Jo hoping to grab him for a quick briefing. As important as he knew that meeting would be, Reeve had to ask for an extension. He was on his way again just a moment later and only doors away from the infirmary.

Reeve could finally stop holding his breath when he opened the door and found Vincent sitting with his back facing him. The gunman had removed his cloak, which had been folded and draped over the back of a chair. Without it, Vincent seemed much thinner than he actually was, fragile, even. At least that's what Reeve thought when he stood upright and turned to face him. Vincent had a few good inches on him, especially with the added height from his boots.

"How are you feeling?" the director asked, though one look was enough to answer his question. Vincent was looking somewhat better than the night before, except for the bloodstains on his tattered shirt.

"Better," the gunman replied as he gazed into Reeve's worried eyes. Despite the unnecessary concern, Vincent found it endearing just how much Reeve cared about him. After all, someone had just attempted to take his own life. Anyone else would have been fretting about nearly being shot to death, but Reeve was different.

"Good," he sighed. Seeing it for himself was enough to convince the director to relax. He was happy, even though the crooked smile he wore said something different. Exhaustion from lack of a good night's sleep and the emotional trauma had finally taken its toll.

"Uh, Jo just stopped me in the hall. He's postponed the briefing for a few, so I should be going…"

"I'll join you," Vincent insisted, going for his cloak. His movement seemed much more fluid compared to last night; the cloak was around his shoulders and buttoned to the top of the collar in seconds flat. Before he knew it, Vincent was brushing passed him and moving into the corridor. Reeve snapped out of his daze to follow the gunman, more than ready to get down to business.


End file.
